Godship

by Peter Ponzo

  Anyway, I adopted Susan's suggestion. She was so sweet, saying that I was the Grand Poobah and it was my choice, but that she'd like to make a tiny suggestion. I announced it over a village-wide video channel.

  "Members of the Clan, I have been asked to consider a name for our Village by the Lake," I began. "I would like to make a suggestion and have you vote yes or no. Indeed, if anyone has a suggestion, something that would recognize our past and celebrate our creation, then please let me know."

  In less than twenty-four hours the voting on my suggestion was complete. It was unanimous. Our new town would be called New Burlington.

  Part 16.5

  It was late one morning when it happened. Susan and I were sitting in a comfortable chair on the porch, gazing out at the children at play on the beach. We were discussing our Godship and the fact that we had never seen any of the alien life forms it had collected. Perhaps they didn't survive or perhaps they were transported to some alien planet as we passed by or perhaps they were assimilated or, most likely, their genetic components were extracted and they were sent back, as we were, to their original planets.

  Suddenly Susan stiffened. "Oh, Gordie," she cried. "David …he's dying." We both jumped up and waited while Susan contacted Gilgamesh. We were transported directly to David's room. He was in bed, attached to several tubes, enclosed in some kind of tent and a nurse was adjusting some instrument.

  "Oh, Premier," the nurse said, looking at me with concern. "Mr. Granger has been asking for you. Please step forward but speak very softly."

  The nurse removed the tent and backed away. She then sat in a chair near the bed, bent over and began to sob.

  Susan went to David's side and held his hand. David's eyes were closed, but when he felt Susan's hand he opened his eyes and smiled, a weak smile that wrinkled his parchment-like skin.

  "I am…am so glad…" he stuttered, "you came. It is time…for me to be received. I have been…been so fortunate to have you and Gordon as friends."

  "David, don't talk. Just relax," Susan said, holding his hand to her breast.

  "No…I must say…say I have been blessed. I love you both…very much, but it is time. I know that you will…that your New Burlington will thrive. Gilgamesh will be at your service for as long as you need him. I have heard from Shatoya …and Lucas. They do well and Gill…Gill now has several children. I leave you all now with…with a glad, glad heart."

  With that, David closed his eyes and passed away.

  The nurse jumped from her chair and ran to David, flinging herself on his prostrate body. "David, my love," she cried, "you must not leave me. What am I to do? Must I now be absorbed?"

  Susan and I were shocked by the nurse's behavior. Susan tried to pull the nurse from the bed. Then, with a lurch, the nurse jumped to her feet. "I must be assimilated," she said. She looked straight at me, tears running down her face. I hardly recognized the woman. It was Hydra! She had become David's nurse. I was sure that Gilgamesh had arranged the transformation and imparted the necessary medical knowledge.

  "God has taken him into His arms," Susan said, in tears. "Hydra, you must come to live with us, in New Burlington. You will certainly not be assimilated. We must tell the Clan. We must celebrate David's life."

  And we did. Indeed, there were guests from every Aquadome, with large contingents from Pacifica and Atlantica. Most surprising were the guests from Ganymede, the moon of Jupiter. They were apparently doing well, but could not stay more than a few hours because of some astrophysical alignments of the planets which required their small spaceship to leave at early dawn in order to acquire the appropriate orbit. I didn't understand, but Susan and I were very happy to see them.

  It was difficult to imagine life without David. Although we saw him less and less as the years went by, he still had intimate association with Gilgamesh and we occasionally needed that affiliation. More than that, he had been a good friend, our mentor, counselor and teacher. In the year that followed, Hydra became a valued medical advisor in New Burlington and she came by often and we spoke of the wonderful old times we had on our Godship, with David and Gill and Tiesha. She was so beautiful and so very clever. I couldn't imagine that I once thought she was mentally…uh, insufficient.

  Late the following summer Granger Park was built with a statue of David. It was surrounded by a reflecting pool and an attached plaque that said:

  David Granger, first citizen of New Burlington.

  I think David would have liked that. Hydra was in tears as the statue was unveiled. Hundreds of Clan members who had known David attended the unveiling and we had many Aquadome visitors.

  Shatoya, Gill, Lucas and some of Gill's children stayed with us for several days. Although Tiesha was the mother of Gill's children, Lucas was content with the Gill-Tiesha-Lucas arrangement. Indeed, we saw that Lucas was a doting father. We asked Shatoya about Althea, the little girl who was in constant communication with Uruk, the Godship attached to Pacifica. That little girl was now married with children, all of whom had well-developed gills. That, Shatoya said with glee, seemed to have been the catalyst that changed Althea from a brat to an angel. Althea no longer regarded herself as handicapped. She had given birth to children who could travel in air and in water.

  When our guests left, Susan and I were saddened. They had been our family, our closest friends. Although we now had several children and grandchildren it wasn't the same. It may be that we would never see them again, our friends in the Aquadomes, and that was sad

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Part 17.1

  As the years passed, Susan and I spent more and more time just sitting on the porch, watching the children play. I had given up the post as Premier long ago, although I was still asked to comment on new agreements. Although I had mentioned certain individuals, in private, as possible successors, the Clan had voted without my knowledge and our firstborn, Godiva, had been chosen as the new Premier. I couldn't believe how competent she was. She certainly didn't take after me.

  My hair was thinning, I had lower back pain, my eyesight was failing and I had put on weight. Susan, on the other hand, was still beautiful. Her hair was almost all white, there were tiny wrinkles about her eyes and she walked with a decided limp, but she was still energetic and was easily excited and enthusiastic about everything that was happening in New Burlington–and she was always radiant, exquisite…with the fragrance of lilac.

  Clan members, synthetic creations, did have 'normal' life spans, I had been told by David, although I never witnessed any deaths among Clan members. The wonderful thing about their lives was the fact that they never got ill and never suffered infirmities. David had said that they would, eventually, just lie down to sleep and never awaken.

  Susan and I often spoke of old times by the Lake, of Susan's Grill and our little mutt, Sandy. Alas, there were no pets available to our Village, but I understood from many of the Clan that children often gathered small rodents and kept them as pets. Once, some years ago, I had suggested that Gilgamesh try to make a puppy for Susan's seventy-fifth birthday. David inquired but Gilgamesh refused because of lack of genetic data. I recall the first flawed human synthetics with red eyes. If the puppy weren't perfect, Susan would have been very unhappy.

  It was after the celebration of my eightieth birthday that I began to suggest my idea to Susan. Before I had completed even a single sentence, she smiled and nodded.

  "Yes, my darling," she said warmly. "We really must. It has been a delight to see New Burlington prosper, to watch our children and grandchildren grow, but it is time."

  I smiled at her ability to read my thoughts. We had been married for almost fifty years and now had a dozen grandchildren, all of whom had gills. In fact, there were just a few 'originals' in New Burlington, those without gills. In fact, with Gilgamesh's help, a small underwater playground had been constructed just offshore, a place where gilled-people could go for underwater picnics or just do fish-watching while swimming. However, although Gilgamesh still hovered ab
ove our village, there was little it was required to do. Our village was self-sufficient. Indeed, we were often surprised to see that the Godship never moved.

  Occasionally Susan and I would transport up and spend a day there–just for old times' sake. It almost seemed that Gilgamesh was pleased to have us on board. Comfortable quarters materialized, wonderful meals were assembled and there was a distinct lilac aroma. Of course, both David and Gill had said, years ago, that Gilgamesh would remain as long as he was needed and we were pleased to see the Godship on the morning of each new day. Yet, it was time.

  Part 17.2

  I made the announcement over the village-wide video system. My wife and I would be leaving New Burlington at week's end. There was a great cry of anguish. We were flattered by the outpouring of emotion and good wishes and appeals to stay, but we had made up our minds. We intended to relive our youth, as best we could, on board Gilgamesh. We would travel the galaxy. We could visit the settlement on Ganymede. We could visit other planets with life forms, observe the results of years of evolution, perhaps those black beetles that had been given the motivation to mature.

  Gilgamesh had prepared our rooms and an elaborate dinner. I had long ago given up on pork burgers, fries and chocolate milkshake. Our farewell dinner was prime rib with horseradish and Yorkshire pudding and a green salad taken from the farm just outside New Burlington. We were both vegetarians, but this was a special occasion. Susan was dressed in a full-length lavender gown with pendant earrings of sapphire and her hair was done up short and curly and looked silver. I wore a tuxedo in black with a red bow tie. What hair I had left was neatly combed. Anyone watching would know immediately that Gilgamesh had assisted in our grooming. The wine was something I remembered from long, long ago: a chilled and sweating Chablis.

  After dinner, Susan and I stood at the window and looked down at the crowds gathered by the lakeshore. Gilgamesh had dropped nicely to less than a hundred meters and a portion of the floor beneath the window was transparent, so we were clearly visible to all. We could see our Clan waving and the water filled with swimming bodies. I could hear music, a tune I recognized. Tchaikovsky's Nut Crackers. Susan looked at me and smiled. She had a tear in her eye. I turned away. I had tears in my eyes as well.

  The sun was just vanishing beyond the horizon, the sky was red and our beautiful lake was pink. Susan nodded her head and I could feel our Godship moving. When New Burlington was just a speck, we turned to each other and embraced. These would be our last days, yet we were very happy. We had accomplished much, left much to be proud of and were looking forward to reliving some of the glorious past. Gilgamesh played soft music and the illumination was warm. Our sleeping quarters were done in off-white and the aroma of lilac was everywhere. The dinners that our Godship provided were superb and the wine varied from my favorite Chablis to Merlot to a sweet Rosé. Gilgamesh had arranged to have many windows available, in every room we visited, in order that we might gaze at the passing star systems.

  Yet, it was lonely. We especially missed the laughter of children. It was very nice that Gilgamesh provided videos of our days in New Burlington. Some scenes were viewed from above, from the Godship location, but most were from ground level. I have a feeling that David had arranged for those videos to be stored in Godship data banks. Indeed, we were often reminded of David's influence on Gilgamesh's behavior.

  It was perhaps a month into our final journey. We had spent a few pleasant days on Ganymede and visited David's planet Cynthia and the planet where the black beetles had been encouraged to evolve. We were sitting on a comfortable sofa facing a large picture window.

  "Do you remember that poem?" I asked my beautiful wife.

  "The Lord's Lament?" she asked.

  "Yes, do you remember the words? I can only recall a few lines, but I recall that God was uncertain how to proceed. However, now I think that God had decided on some plan…after the holocaust."

  "Yes," Susan said. "God had indeed thought of something…and we were involved, you and I and David and all our old friends."

  And she recited the poem by heart:

  He was to be My finest create,

  A million years to evolve.

  A million years to banish the hate,

  The arrogance to resolve.

  To embrace the world that gives him life.

  To love the creatures therein.

  To nurture the Earth, arrest its strife.

  To tame the land, abolish sin.

  Yet his past was dark with angry ways

  That he may look and learn and change.

  To see the best, one must know the worst

  So the anger and hate were there at first

  that he might find the seemly path.

  I gave him life, the strength to choose,

  His destiny within his grasp.

  As time progressed he shunned the best

  And in My name he failed the test

  and turned his friend to foe.

  He forged a world to suit his need.

  He ravaged land and sea.

  He failed to find the seemly path

  He earned the Earth's befitting wrath

  Yet Nature did not stay his course.

  Quake and storm revealed My rage,

  And pestilence My ire.

  Yet he raped the Earth, the sea and sand

  And coveted his neighbour's land

  and sought to subjugate.

  I forge a world of contrast,

  That the best would come to be.

  Yet he despises those of different past,

  Their good he fails to see.

  A million years and yet his state

  Is not what I intended.

  I am not certain what his fate

  Or how it should be ended.

  BUT I'll think of something!